then add, “And my little brother’s always been well behaved, plus my parents have been together forever.” I rub the heel of my palm over my right eye, an eyelash or something’s irritating it. “So, I can’t really complain.”
“You’re a lucky one. Most people just don’t have that kind of upbringing.”
I nod in agreement.
Then Carter says he has to go. He’s promised his brother he’ll drop off some tools that are in his trunk tonight; he’d borrowed them yesterday.
“Bye, Leigh,” Carter says with a genuine smile. And a minute later, he’s out the door. I go home anticipating the next day and dream of Carter throughout the night. It’s like I’ve been struck by cupid’s arrow.
After yoga on Monday, Carter asks me out. Of course I tell him yes, and we exchange phone numbers.
I take extra time to get ready for my date, super-psyched to learn more about this
man. We talked about the basics last night, but I’m eager to see if my intuition is correct.
I head into town to where we’ve agreed to meet up.
Carter says he’d like to learn how to cook, so he signed the two of us up for a cooking lesson at a popular cookware chain store. I must admit that I think of myself as a decent cook, especially living off campus, but hopefully it’ll be fun to learn something new.
Carter’s already at the store when I get there. I’ve got on my favorite blue jeans and a purple baby doll top. My hair blows with the gust of wind that comes in when the entrance door opens up behind me. There are about eight other people around the cooking station. The chef for the cooking course tells us we’ll be making fontina risotto with chicken. Wow , I think.
I curl my lips and open my eyes wide. Is this an intermediate class? It didn’t sound like something a beginner can cook.
Carter nudges my arm with his elbow. “You’re looking sort of nervous there,” he teases.
I take the opportunity to inch a little closer to him. He smells sexy of aftershave and cologne.
I giggle. “I was just expecting a simpler recipe.”
“Oh, my dear, but you’ll see how absolutely easy this dish is,” says the chef.
I guess she overheard us because we’re at the first station up front. Brightly colored bowls and cooking utensils are set up at each station. I wash my hands at the sink and pat them on the kitchen towel next to it. I can’t help myself and I pick up a fork, clanging it lightly against one of the bowls. “I hope it’s bon appetite for us after this meal’s done,” I tell Carter. “Do you cook at all?”
Carter shakes his head. “It’s mainly take-out for me. I do know how to boil a mean rice, though.” He makes a chopping gesture with his hands. “Add a variety of steamed veggies and mix it up.” He chuckles. “I just buy different proteins―fish, chicken, beef―to go with the rice, or I cook up some pasta dish.”
“Who doesn’t know how to boil pasta, eh?” Where did that come from? Suddenly, I’m Italian? Only I sound more like a cartoon character. Relax...so I don’t make a fool of myself on our very first date . I mean, I’d like for us to go out more than this one time.
Carter laughs. “You sound like a cartoon character.”
I gasp and fix my face sternly. “You know, I was just thinking the same thing.”
Carter’s laugh gets louder.
The chef clears her throat. She’s ready to give us the steps to the recipe. “This is a go-to dish...,” she says, as she makes a kissing motion against her clenched fingers, “a healthy yet decadent basic that can be eaten alone or can go with anything.”
Carter and I take turns adding the ingredients. I pour the chicken stock into the pot, and then add Arborio rice, the thyme and the ground pepper. Carter chops a medium-sized onion, grates a cup of fontina cheese, and dices the smoked chicken breast. I watch how good he is with his hands and smile. Hopefully, there’ll be plenty of opportunities for us to feed each other in the